Motivation
by GiorgiaKerr
Summary: FBI motivation speakers. How bad can it be? Just a little Booth/Brennan snippit.


**Spoilers:** Whatever.

**Disclaimer:** This oneshot is wholly pointless, by the way. But if you enjoy it, thank, again, my school assemblies. Horrible things...

**Author's Note: **Just a little light-hearted piece after the last one. That was a bit emotionally draining... ha! Guess who has a new laptop! In that case, forgive me for the typos I'm bound to make while getting used to this thing.

* * *

"Seriously. What does McDonald's have to do with motivation?" Booth demanded in a whisper. Brennan ignored him, cursing in a language he didn't recognise. They both remained silent as the speaker droned on relentlessly about God knows what.

"Excuse me!" he exclaimed, still whispering. He glared fatally at the speaker. "I do _not_ use toothpaste if it's covered in _beard hair_!" he informed Brennan with disgust. Brennan smiled at him.

"Apparently that makes you a woman," she pointed out. Booth did a double-take then glared at her.

"That does not make me a woman!" he said warningly, sticking his finger right in front of her nose. She flinched away from it, swatting at it. "This guy is talking crap," he added, removing his finger. Truth be told, he was just scared she was really going to injure him.

Booth smiled. "Even _you_ cursed at him in Spanish."

"Portuguese," she corrected. A loud shushing noise sounded behind them. Neither even turned.

"Portuguese," Booth amended. They both turned to the front again, put off by the man who had interrupted them. A thought hit Brennan, niggling at her.

"They're really very different, you know," she said, turning to Booth again. He half-turned in his seat, confusion furrowing his brows.

"What, baby poop and McDonald's food?" Booth asked in reference to the speaker's latest point. Brennan rolled her eyes at him.

"No. Spanish and Portuguese," she stated. Booth nodded slightly.

"Oh... Can we leave now? I'm just about to consider how much damage one of these really uncomfortable plastic chairs would do to that guy's head," he said bitterly. Brennan wasn't quite sure if he was joking. She decided to play along.

"Well, if you hit him in the right spot, at the right trajectory, you could cause enough damage to get us out of here without being charged for murder." She shrugged. Now she was wondering whether _she_ was joking. She didn't think so.

Booth grinned at her mood. "Nah. I think our only witnesses are thinking about the same thing," he replied as if he were considering a calculus equation. Brennan gave his a sly look.

"Either that or we could just leave."

Booth turned to her this time, stunned. "Bones!" he said, nodding his head. "I'm impressed. Didn't figure _you_ for cutting school." He grinned at her. Brennan looked appropriately innocent.

"I may have aced all my tests, but it wasn't as if I ever _needed_ to go to class..." she explained. Booth grinned and held up his fist. She complied, knocking it with her own.

The man behind them rolled his eyes.

Booth groaned quietly. Brennan looked at him.

"What's wrong, do you feel sick?" she asked. He didn't miss the hopefulness in her voice. He frowned.

"I think the words 'severe consequences' were used in relation to truancy." Booth grimaced, shuddering theatrically. "'Mandatory attendance, Agent Booth'," he mocked. Brennan shook her head at his bad impression of Cullen and muttered again in what booth now knew was Portuguese. Booth wasn't done, though.

"I mean, it isn't like I actually _need_ motivation," Booth said miserably, sinking in his seat and crossing his arms. Brennan decided not to comment on his childish behaviour.

"I think murderers and a gun are enough motivation," she agreed simply.

Booth nodded, than looked back through the crown of FBI agents to the speaker.

"... I tossed him as _high_ as I could: up, up, up! All the parents..."

Booth looked at Brennan with a questioning face. "Make a break for it on 'three'."

As they left the room full of agents, Booth punched the air theatrically. "I half expected there to be guards at the doors," he explained, chuckling. Brennan smiled.

"It's probably not unheard of," she said as she climbed into Booth's SUV. Booth grinned, happy to be out of that room. He was quite sure he'd be reprimanded, but he really didn't care. He was already formulating a legitimate excuse in his head.

A break in the case would be easy enough to use. Cam and her Squints were always working so constantly that it was hard _not_ to get a break.

"So," booth began brightly. "Where are we off to?" he turned and grinned at her, starting the car.

"Well, I have some things to work on back at the lab, so if you just-"

"Oh, no, Bones!" he reprimanded. Brennan looked shocked.

"Why not?"

Booth was almost surprised not to hear a 'So stop me'. "Because we just escaped! Freedom!"

Brennan sighed at his oddly-timed enthusiasm. "We were in an FBI workshop, not Alcatraz," she pointed out. Booth sighed dramatically.

"I'm not taking you back to the lab, period." His face was resolute. Brennan looked mutinous for a second before deciding she could work this to her advantage.

"Okay," she said definitively. Booth stared at her, eyebrows raised. "But you have to buy me lunch."

Well, apologies for the utter dudness. I'll post something actually worth reading soon!


End file.
